


I Really Need Somebody To Call My Own

by losingmymindtonight



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Arguing, Concussions, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Jealous Tony Stark, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Poor Peter Parker, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, although it's not as brutal as it sounds, so many issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24434452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/losingmymindtonight/pseuds/losingmymindtonight
Summary: Tony didn’t even know when he started getting jealous of Happy.It had been nice, at first, watching him and Peter get so close. Tony couldn’t be around all the time, and Happy still lived in the city, mostly to be close to May, so it was reassuring to have someone watching the kid’s back while he was watching Morgan’s.It had also helped, in a cynical sort of way, that Peter struggled with the transition. After all, he’d come back from the Snap to his aunt in an entirely new relationship. Not only that, she was in a relationship with someone the kid knew. There were bound to be growing pains, and Tony was the one Peter always went to with them, ranting through video chats at 2:00 am. It had made him feel important, like he was becoming part of the kid’s structural foundation.And then Happy had moved in with the Parkers, which had thrown everyone for a loop, and the months had blended together, and suddenly Happy was an integral part of Peter’s structural foundation, too.--Or, Tony questions his role in Peter's life. Naturally, he spirals.
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 38
Kudos: 714





	I Really Need Somebody To Call My Own

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this fic was a wild ride from start to finish. If you asked me whether or not I like it, I'd genuinely not have a clue how to answer you.
> 
> WARNINGS: self-deprecation, mentions of bad parenting (past), cursing, jealousy, kidnapping, drugs, concussions, minor blood mentions, trapped underground, mentions of explosives, arguments, hospital scenes

Tony didn’t even know when he started getting jealous of Happy.

It had been nice, at first, watching him and Peter get so close. Tony couldn’t be around all the time, and Happy still lived in the city, mostly to be close to May, so it was reassuring to have someone watching the kid’s back while he was watching Morgan’s.

It had also helped, in a cynical sort of way, that Peter struggled with the transition. After all, he’d come back from the Snap to his aunt in an entirely new relationship. Not only that, she was in a relationship with someone the kid _knew_. There were bound to be growing pains, and Tony was the one Peter always went to with them, ranting through video chats at 2:00 am. It had made him feel important, like he was becoming part of the kid’s structural foundation.

And then Happy had moved in with the Parkers, which had thrown _everyone_ for a loop, and the months had blended together, and suddenly Happy was an integral part of Peter’s structural foundation, too.

Peter started going to Happy for advice that, before, he definitely would’ve gone to Tony for. It was little things, at first, nothing too alarming, but it still stung. Pepper always rolled her eyes when he brought it up, gently chastised him for being so territorial.

He didn’t get why she thought he was being irrational. He’d lost Peter for _five years_. There wasn’t a universe where that didn’t justify at least a hint of him being _territorial_.

Plus, he thought he’d been holding it together pretty well. The only people who actually knew that he was jealous were Pepper and Rhodey, and he only complained about it sometimes. And by sometimes he meant, like, a couple times a day, but he didn’t complain about it for _long_.

Today, though, was throwing a major wrench in his amiability. 

Peter didn’t have class on Fridays. It was a perk of being a senior, and having torn through so many of his credits in his first three years. From that schedule had grown a routine. Tony drove into the city on Thursday, picked Peter up from school, and they drove back to the cabin at their own pace. Sometimes they took elaborate detours, just to stop at some off-the-path diner the kid had found on Yelp, and sometimes they drove straight back, Peter napping in the passenger's seat. Either way, it was one of the highlights of Tony’s week.

Thursday had come, but sometime around 1:00, just before Tony needed to leave to make sure he got a prime position in the pick-up line, F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerted him to a text from Happy.

_HH: Hey Boss. Got Pete and I tickets to a movie tonight, so I’ve got pick-up covered. Swear I’ll deliver him tomorrow._

He glowered at the text for a solid five minutes before he finally answered it.

_TS: I’ll drive up and get him after the movie._

_HH: We won’t be out until 11:00, and the kid needs sleep. I’m fine to bring him tomorrow._

He grit his teeth. The thing was, he _knew_ he was being irrational. He _knew_ it. But it didn’t matter, because this was their tradition, and for just a little while, it was when he got the kid all to himself.

_TS: I’ll get him. I need to do something in the city anyway, and he can sleep in the car._

This time, it was Happy who took his time responding.

_HH: Alright. Texted the kid, and he says that’s fine._

Oh, well _thank god_ Peter said it was fine. Surely, it was of vital importance that Happy consulted the literal _child_ before he accepted Tony’s plans.

He chucked his phone to the side, wincing a little when he missed the coffee table and it clattered against the hardwood.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, glaring out into the room at large. “That’s just… _fucking_ typical.”

Soft footsteps caught his attention, and he craned his neck to see Pepper padding in from her home office, hair gathered in a tight bun, shirt crisp and professional, with sweatpants and fuzzy socks past the point where her webcam didn’t show.

She smiled at him, wandering nearer to perch on the arm of the couch. “Hi, honey. Shouldn’t you be off to get Peter soon?”

He leaned back against the cushions and crossed his arms over his chest, hoping that the posture looked casual instead of forlorn. “No. Kid’s going to the movies. I’m picking him up late.”

Pepper laughed, clearly missing the irritation in his voice. “With Michelle?”

“With Happy,” he corrected, taken aback by how certain she’d seemed. “Why on Earth would the kid be at the movies with MJ?”

After the question, there were very few moments where Pepper actually managed to look something other than poised. In general, Tony adored those tiny slips. They always felt equalizing, considering the fact that she constantly managed to flip his exterior and get at the less-than-confident person underneath.

But now, seeing her look a lot like Morgan did when he caught her sneaking a juice pop out of the freezer before dinner, he felt a weird pit drop in his stomach.

“They’re friends, aren’t they?” Pepper tried, smiling nervously. “Why wouldn’t he be with her?”

“ _Pepper_. Why did you think he was with Michelle?”

Pepper’s shoulder slumped. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but I can tell when the bits between your teeth. I was talking to May, earlier, and apparently Peter told Happy a few days ago that he was going to try to ask her on a date. I thought he would’ve told you.”

The news hit him like a blow, words ringing in his head. _Peter told Happy_. _Peter told Happy. Peter told Happy._

Peter told Happy, but he _didn’t_ tell Tony.

“Oh.”

Pepper’s face twisted up, clearly realizing what she’d done. “Tony, darling, I’m sure he was planning on telling you himself. Don’t-”

“I called him last night,” he muttered. “He… He didn’t even _hint_ at it.”

“Maybe he wanted to say it in person.”

 _Yeah, right,_ he thought. _Or maybe he just didn’t want to say it at all. Not to me, anyway. But clearly he had no problem telling Happy._

“Well,” Tony chirped, sarcasm so strong that his jaw ached with it, “at least the kid gets to spend the afternoon with _Happy_. You know, the person he can _obviously_ confide in about _anything_.”

Sympathy washed over Pepper’s face. “Oh, honey. It’s good that they’re spending time together.”

“Sure.”

She sighed, weary, and pushed at his shoulder until he made room for her next to him. Once they were sitting side-by-side, hips brushing, she reached out and combed her fingers through his hair, eyes glittering.

“Losing Peter hurt Happy a lot,” she murmured, slow and gentle. “You know that.”

“I know,” he bit out. And even though he knew Pepper’s words were true, he couldn’t stop the childish twinge of, _but not as much as it hurt me_ that rose to meet them.

“And he and May seem to be getting pretty serious. That means that Happy’s bound to play a bigger part in Peter’s life. You must’ve seen that coming.”

He shrugged. Honestly, he _hadn’t_. At least, if he had, he hadn’t recognized how much it would bother him until it arrived.

“But,” Pepper added, gently running her nails over his scalp, “that doesn’t mean that _your_ part in his life is any less important.”

“Really?” He scoffed. “No offense, Pep, but it sure seems like I’m becoming obsolete.”

“Only because you’re letting yourself spiral,” she cautioned. “Tony, you only see Peter through your own eyes, but I see the way he looks at you. Anybody who takes half a glance at you two together would be _mad_ to think he doesn’t love you. He clings to every single word that you say.”

He shrugged, pushing away her reassurances before they could seduce him into hope. “It’s… I’m just being dramatic. I have Morgan, anyway. That’s enough.”

“Don’t you _dare_ use our daughter as an excuse to ignore this. You can love her _and_ Peter at the same time.”

“It’s fine,” he pressed, suddenly desperate for the conversation to be over, to be alone. “You should probably get back to work.”

Pepper studied him for a second, then sighed again, long and heavy. “Okay. But don’t spend all afternoon brooding. You’re working yourself up over nothing.”

He swallowed a scoff. Something to do with Peter was _never_ nothing.

To him, it was the most important thing in the world.

\--

Happy texted him the address of the theater when he was five minutes clear of the cabin.

Tony drove with the windows down and the music loud, trying to drown out the rattling of his thoughts.

It didn’t work.

Why hadn’t Peter told him about MJ? They’d definitely talked about her before, so establishing context wouldn’t have been an issue. He _knew_ the kid was head-over-heels for her. Had he not listened the way he should’ve, when Peter brought her up? Had he seemed too distant?

Peter was such an open kid. _Tony_ was supposed to be the closed-off, emotionally transient one. And yet after everything that had happened with Thanos, he’d done everything he could to push that piece of himself away.

He told Peter he loved him enough, right? He… He knew he wasn’t good at saying it, exactly, but he _tried_. Morgan helped. The admission wouldn’t have been possible before her, but now he managed to get it out on special occasions.

But… Tony was also far away, removed from the rumble and tumble of Peter’s days, and Happy was with him _all the time_. Maybe that was it? Peter wanted someone accessible. Someone who had the time and energy to pour into all the tiny details of his life.

Plus, if Happy and May got married, then Happy would be… well, essentially his _stepfather_. And what was Tony to that? He didn’t have any real connection to Peter, either morally or legally. All he’d done was give the kid a Spider-Man suit and sent him off to fight danger in the streets.

And the more he thought about it, the more he realized just how _true_ that was.

He didn’t have _any_ right to Peter’s life. He didn’t have a right be kept informed, let alone allowed a say in the proceedings. Anyone looking in from the outside would agree.

And yet a tiny voice of desperation--the core of all of this, the reason he was still driving into the city long after sunset despite every doubtful thought spinning in his head--rose up to hammer into the logic.

_But I love him._

But Tony knew that loving someone wasn’t always enough. He’d loved Pepper just as much at the beginning of their relationship as he did now, and that hadn’t stopped them from tripping over each other dozens of times before reaching the steady thing they’d built with Morgan.

He’d loved Steve, had loved the team, and that had still splintered.

He’d loved his father, but that love had never convinced the man to love him back.

Insecurity nibbled at his chest. Maybe… Maybe he’d understood Peter all wrong in the first place. There wasn’t any doubt in the world that the kid was kind, and sweet, and maybe he’d mistaken that compassion for something that it wasn’t. Just because he’d _thought_ that the kid was fond of him didn’t make it true.

Happy was the better man, anyway. They’d been friends for decades, and Tony knew that Peter couldn’t have picked a better role model.

But it still fucking _hurt_ , and he still felt every atom in his body _yearn_ to mean something to Peter. To be trusted and confided in and, yes, even _adored_. He’d always had a streak of narcissism, although he wasn’t sure it arose out of being self-centered as opposed to relying too much on outside validation to feel worthwhile, and seeing Morgan or Peter stare up at him like he hung the stars was the _best_ feeling in the world. It made him feel as if, for just once in his life, he’d done _something_ right.

He didn’t want to lose it. He was _so afraid_ of losing it.

He shook himself, taking in his surroundings and realizing that he was nearly in Queens. Somehow, he’d managed to occupy the entire drive to the city with his own self-pity.

When he got to the theater, he parked at the back, far away from any of the other cars. There were barely any people there, with Happy and Peter coming out from one of the latest showings, but he still didn’t want to risk being recognized.

That was the last thing he needed. His day had already been so goddamn awful.

Peter and Happy were laughing when Tony finally spotted them pushing through the exit. The kid was bouncing with every step, grinning, look for all the world like he was exactly where he wanted to be.

Tony hated that it made him sad. Wasn’t he supposed to want the kid’s happiness, no matter what the cost?

“This kind of feels like a drug deal,” Peter joked as soon as Tony was in earshot, still smiling, still carefree. “You two like… exchanging me outside an empty movie theater. Creepy.”

“Well,” Tony said, stiff, “I’m used to getting you in broad daylight, but I guess that’s not gonna happen anymore.”

Happy’s face screwed up at the comment. “What the hell do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, catching Peter’s equally baffled gaze and jerking his thumb back to the car. “C’mon, kid. Get in. We’re burning moonlight.”

“No, wait.” Happy grabbed Peter’s shoulder, effectively reining the entire interaction back in hand. “Why’re you acting like you’re on the losing end of a custody battle right now?”

He hated that Happy knew him so well. Hated that he’d managed to peg exactly what was upsetting him within half a minute. Somehow, in his desire to lash out, he’d forgotten that Happy was bound to see right through the act.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the bullshit, Tony. You’re clearly pissed about _something_. Just spit it out.”

Peter glanced between them, a distant look in his eyes. “Uh, Happy? Mister Stark?”

Tony didn’t know _why_ the fact that Peter chose to vie for Happy’s attention first made his stomach clench so fiercely, but it did, and he turned to snap at the kid before he could muzzle himself.

“Be _quiet_ , Peter.” Even as the words left his mouth, he regretted them, but he couldn’t get himself to _stop_. “This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Actually, it kinda seems like it has _everything_ to do with me-”

“No, it doesn’t,” he hissed, a small part of him dying as Peter flinched back. “The adults are talking, alright?”

“Hey,” Happy said, voice picking up a hard edge for the first time in the entire conversation. “There isn’t any point to snapping at the kid, alright? Snap at me if you wanna take it out on someone.”

“I’m not snapping-”

“Tony!” The kid suddenly shouted, pulling out of Happy’s grasp and latching onto his arm. “Tony, there’s something-”

A soft whistle was the only warning any of them had before a small metal dart embedded itself in Peter’s neck. A second one had found its way to Happy before Tony even had the space to react.

“Fuck,” he hissed, instinctively latching onto Peter when the kid wobbled. “Pete, buddy, you’ve gotta stay awake. We-”

He felt a sharp sting in his arm and silently cursed. Happy crumbled next to them, and Peter sank further into his arms, not rousing no matter how much Tony shook him.

 _Damn it._ Whatever it was that they had in these darts, it had managed to take Spider-Man down in five seconds flat, and that _screamed_ bad news. He scrambled to adjust his arms around the kid’s chest, fighting against his own sudden wooziness as he stumbled back against the car, using the brace to slide them both to the ground.

“Y’re okay,” he forced out, wincing at the clear slur in the words. “Pete.”

He heard the roar of an engine, then hard boots on concrete, and hazily recognized the sound as _danger!_ He tried to pull Peter closer to his chest, vision flicking, but his brain wouldn’t connect to his limbs, and all he managed was a weak twitch.

The world spun away before he could try again.

\--

Someone shook his shoulder.

“Tony?” The voice was rough, rushed. Whoever it was, they were frantic. Tony could tell that before he’d even managed to open his eyes. “Tony, c’mon. Wake up.”

He blinked, and found Happy hovering over him, an uncharacteristic glint of panic on his face.

“Thank _god_ ,” Happy breathed, leaning back. “Tony, there’s something wrong with the kid.”

Tony discarded the obvious comment that there was very clearly something wrong with _all of them_ , considering that his cursory examination of their surroundings placed them in an almost entirely pitch-black shipping container. Instead, he forced his aching body up, eyes latching onto the only other shape in the room: _Peter_.

The kid was sprawled out on the ground just out of reach, clearly unconscious. A zing of confusion made him pause. If he and Happy were awake, then why…

“He’s bloody,” Happy said, as if sensing his thoughts. “I couldn’t get him to wake up no matter what I tried.”

He crawled across the few feet between him and Peter, not quite trusting his legs to bear his weight. Once he got close, he could see what Happy had been talking about: dried blood was crusted around the kid’s nose, another glob caught in his hair. He ran his hands over his skull and found a small cut just behind his right ear.

“Peter,” he called, slapping the kid’s cheek. “C’mon, bud. You gotta wake up.”

No response. He looked up to find Happy hovering less than a few inches away, palm pressed gently to Peter’s chest.

He forced his thoughts into order. Okay, so, first hypothesis: head injury. He carefully pried up one of the kid’s eyelids, sending a silent apology to the kid for manhandling him so much, and squinted in the dim light to get a look at his pupils.

The kid’s left pupil was blown wide, but his right was pinprick small. Adrenaline shot through him, pushing clear the last dregs of the drugs. He wasn’t sure how long it’d last, but for now, he was grateful for it, because that was fucking _bad_.

He let Peter’s eyelid shut and tapped the side of the kid’s face, forcing his voice to stay calm. “His pupils are uneven.”

Happy’s gaze snapped up to meet his, a silent understanding passing between them. “Did he hit his head when he fell?”

“No. I managed to grab him. It must’ve happened after.” He gently slid up the hem of the kid’s shirt, then winced at the mess of cuts and bruises the greeted him. “Yeah. I’m guessing that our hosts weren’t as gentle with him as they were with us.”

“ _Bastards_ ,” Happy growled, murder in his eyes. For once, Tony had to agree with him. “Why the hell would they do that?”

“His metabolism probably churned through whatever sedative was in those darts long before us. Maybe he woke up when they were transporting us, and they knocked him out again.”

“I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

 _Yeah, well, get in line,_ he thought darkly. The thought of Peter waking up alone and afraid, only to be beaten back down before he even had a chance to get away, made bile burn in his throat.

He wondered if they’d moved them in the same van. If so, he wondered if the kid had reached out for him.

He crushed the thought. No. He might’ve before, but not now. Now, he’d probably reached for Happy.

“I have to get him up,” he muttered, carefully positioning his fist over the kid’s sternum. “If his pupils are that screwy, then we’re probably talking a massive concussion at best. I have to see how coherent he is.”

Happy just nodded, then moved closer to Peter’s head, steadying it with a tenderness that reminded Tony weirdly of himself.

By some miracle, the kid actually roused after a few seconds of Tony digging his knuckles into his stomach. If he was being honest, he hadn’t expected them to get so lucky. He didn’t need years of medical training to know that uneven pupils were a very, very bad sign.

Unsurprisingly, the first noise out of Peter’s mouth was a groan of pain, hands fumbling up to try and push Tony’s fist away.

“Hey, buddy,” Happy said, smiling in a way that Tony couldn’t remember seeing from him before. “You’re doing great. Just try and stay still.”

Tony bit his tongue. _That’s_ my _nickname._

Peter blinked, not quite focusing on anything as his gaze wavered around the room. “H’ppy?”

“Right here, kiddo,” Happy murmured, cradling Peter’s cheek in his palm. “Just hang in there.”

Tony clenched his hands. If this had been any other situation, he would’ve bolted. He felt like he was watching something slip out of his grasp, and there was nothing he could do to re-catch it.

That blind faith in Peter’s voice—the instinct to reach for him before anybody else—used to belong to him.

“We have to get him out of here,” he interrupted, struggling to his feet. “If he’s got a brain bleed, then he’s only going to get worse.” He glanced around, searching for something, _anything_ , that might offer a hint of escape. “You got any ideas? Observations?”

“I think we’re underground,” Happy suggested, pointing to a small, circular opening in one of the corners. “Think that’s a pipe to the surface, for oxygen. There’s a hatch, too, but I didn’t try to mess with it. There’s wires all over.”

Tony followed his gaze to said hatch. “It looks like they’ve rigged up some kind of electronic lock,” he said, carefully tracing the mess of wires and tape swarming the outline. “My guess is that if we try to force our way out, there’s an explosive rigged to blow.”

“Don’t care much about keeping us alive, then,” Happy muttered. “Doesn’t give me a warm and fuzzy feeling.”

“Me neither.” He let himself have one last glance at Peter, who blinked dazedly in response, and swallowed down the part of him that wanted to pull the kid into his arms and never let go. “Alright. I’m gonna try to bypass it. Keep him awake.”

The wires were a mess, but the actual contraption wasn’t that complicated. The major hold-up would be trying to sort out all the different pieces, considering they’d been strapped and tangled together with no sense of organization.

After a few minutes of concentration, he heard Happy trying to shush Peter behind him, tiny whimpers tearing out of the kid’s throat. Each one wrenched at his heart, but he forced himself to ignore it.

Happy’d probably handle it better than he would, anyway.

“Hey, hey. You’ve gotta stay calm, Pete.”

“Mis’er… Mis’er S’ark. Where’s ‘e? Wan’... ‘s okay?”

“He’s fine, Peter. He’s trying to get us out of here.”

“Where’s… Happy, wan’... T’ny?”

“Alright, okay, I’ll get him.” Happy’s voice raised, and Tony paused in his work. “Tony? Kid wants you.”

He clenched his eyes shut, an internal battle ripping at his seams. _God_ , he’d wanted nothing more than to spin around and sprint right back to Peter as soon as he’d first heard his butchered attempt as _Mister Stark_. But he knew he shouldn’t, and, maybe even worse, he knew that it would only hurt more if he did.

“Tell him I’m busy.”

“ _Tony_.” Happy’s voice was hard. “Tony, c’mon. Just for a second. He’s working himself up. You didn’t give him a chance to see you.”

He spun around, centering himself with a forceful breath. _Fine, okay, fine_. Peter just wanted to make sure that everyone was alive. Tony could give him that, and then he’d plunge back into his restlessness and get them the hell _out of here._

This would work. He’d make this work.

He knelt down beside the kid and set his palm against his forehead, trying to distance himself from the tears, the blood, the hazy look in the kid’s eyes when they finally found his face.

“Mis’er S’ark,” Peter breathed, relief bright and adoring enough to nearly, just _nearly_ , crack down his façade.

Nearly, but not quite.

“Quit it, Peter,” he ordered, wishing that the words didn’t sound so dismissive while simultaneously knowing that that was exactly what he’d been aiming for during their conception. “You’re fine.”

“ _Tony_ ,” Happy admonished, staring at him like he’d grown two heads. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” “

“What?” He snapped. “You want me to coddle him?”

“Isn’t that what you always do? Seriously, you’ve been acting like a dick all day. What’s put such a stick up your ass?”

“I’m fine,” he hissed. “I’m just trying to get us out of here alive. Sorry if that’s inconvenient for you.”

“Tony-”

He spun, standing and stalking back to the hatch, blocking out Peter’s little whimper of _no, stay._

Happy’s voice died out behind him, and a heavy silence fell over the cell.

The longer he worked, the more the guilt settled deep in his bones.

This had always been what he was afraid of, from the first second he’d looked into Peter’s eyes and realized he _mattered_ to him. He knew the temper that he’d inherited from his father. He’d seen it up close and personal throughout his whole childhood, and he’d sworn to never turn it on his own children.

But he had. Peter had wanted him, the _exact_ thing that Tony had been longing for all goddamn day, and he’d snapped at him. He’d brushed him off.

Even when he managed to reroute the explosive’s trigger and the latch flicked open, he couldn’t shake the sense that, in the truth of it, he’d _failed_.

He shoved the hatch up, coughing when a layer of dirt spilled out over his head.

“I’m going for help,” he called back to Happy, not daring to make eye contact. “Stay with Peter. It’s not safe to move him.”

“Tony, are you sure that-”

He climbed out before the concern in his friend’s voice could eat him alive.

\--

He found their phones in a lockbox buried just a few feet away from their makeshift prison. Whoever had taken them had clearly put a little _too much_ faith in their MacGyvering.

He called Cho, used his GPS to discover that they were less than an hour away from the cabin, then sat back against a nearby tree.

He knew he should go let Happy know that rescue was on the way. Even more, he knew that he should go help with Peter.

It’s what he _wanted_ to do.

But he didn’t.

\--

When the ambulance arrived, Pepper was with them.

She shot out of the van and threw her arms around him. Tony let himself sink into the embrace, burying his face into her shoulder and letting the first sob hiccup out of his throat.

“Oh, Tony,” she breathed. “Thank god you’re alright. All of you.”

“I was a dick to him, Pep,” he whispered. “He barely even knows where he _is_ , and I was a _dick_ to him.”

Pepper didn’t ask who _he_ was. He supposed that she probably didn’t have to.

“He’ll forgive you.”

“Maybe if he doesn’t remember.”

“Even if he does, he will.”

She sounded so _certain_ , and yet Tony was pretty sure that he hadn’t been certain of _anything_ since that morning, besides his own trajectorial decay.

“You don’t know that.”

“Of course I do.”

“ _How_?”

She chuckled, although he could tell that she wasn’t actually laughing at his expense. The sound was smothered in exasperated sympathy. 

“Because you’re the only one confused about what’s going on here, but I’m going to let you and Peter figure it out for yourselves.”

\--

Tony sat silently in Peter’s hospital room, swearing to himself that he’d just stay until the kid woke up, just as long as it took to be sure he was alright, and then he’d go.

It wasn’t like Peter was likely to be coherent, after everything. He’d stay, and he’d tell him he loved him, and then he’d go. Let Happy or May take his seat.

So when the kid stirred, his whole body tensed. All at once, it felt like a timer had been plastered over his head, and his minutes were rapidly devolving into seconds.

“Hey,” he whispered, a spark of emotion blocking his throat when Peter turned his face blindly in the direction of his voice. “You’re alright, kiddo.”

Peter’s eyes flickered open and he smiled, bleary and just this side of conscious, but his pupils were small and even, and Tony was pretty sure that it was the most wonderful thing he’d ever seen. 

“Mm. T’ny.”

“Yeah, buddy.” Slowly, unsure, he reached out and carded his hands through the kid’s curls, soul softening when Peter hummed contentedly. “It’s me.”

After a minute or two, the kid yawned, blinking around the room. “Hospital?”

“Mhm. D’you remember what happened?”

He crossed his fingers, hiding that hand just out of Peter’s sight. Selfishly, he prayed to every deity he could think of that the kid _didn’t_ remember.

A whirlpool opened in Tony’s chest when Peter nodded, although while his brow furrowed a little, he seemed more confused by his memories than angry.

“Are you okay?” The kid finally rasped, and Tony swore he felt some of his heartstrings snap in two.

“Yeah, kiddo. I’m just fine.”

“M’kay. Good.” Peter blinked again, gaze drifting over Tony, to the door, then back again. “Where’s Happy?”

Tony jerked his hand back, rejection closing around his throat. “He went to talk with May. I’ll go get him, since you clearly-”

Peter’s eyes widened, something about the situation seeming to shock him fully into the land of the living. For a horrible second, he seemed to wobble on the edge of tears. “No, no. Please-Please don’t go. I’m sorry. I just noticed he wasn’t here. ‘S he okay?”

“He’s fine.” He clenched his jaw. He knew his hurt wasn’t fair, even knew that it was _misplaced_ , but he clung to it stubbornly. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. will call him if you’d prefer he sat with you, and I’ll just, uh-”

Peter cut him off by reaching out his IV-free hand and catching one of Tony’s, tugging weakly until he gave in and let the kid pull it up against his chest, carefully curling around it like a little kid would cling to their favorite stuffed toy. The position forced Tony to lean into the bed, the edge of the cot’s frame digging uncomfortably into his ribs. Still, he did it. After everything that had happened, he couldn’t stand the thought of denying Peter anything.

“Please just… say what’s wrong,” the kid whispered, pitiful, and every inch of Tony’s pain-fueled anger whisked straight out of him. “My head really hurts, ‘n I want this to be over with.”

He shook his head, shushing Peter softly, reaching his non-trapped hand out to brush his fingertips over the kid’s forehead. “Nothing’s wrong, buddy, except for that headache. You’re probably due for another hit of super-morphine. Y’want me to call a nurse?”

Peter glared, and Tony had to bite back a fond smile. “Nuh-uh. You’re not getting out ‘f this by drugging me.”

“Pete, you’re in pain-”

The kid poked his chin up, stubbornness warring against his clear exhaustion. “‘N the longer you stall, the longer it’ll be before I let you fix it.”

Despite himself, he felt a glow of admiration at the kid’s ultimatum. This was his kid, and he _loved him_. Even if he didn’t love him back, that wouldn’t change.

“That’s blackmail, you know that? It’ll land you in federal prison for 3-4 long ones.”

“New York prison, actually,” Peter corrected, a tired but triumphant smirk unfurling across his face. “Not a federal crime ‘less I cross state borders, which I haven’t.”

“What a bizarre fact for you to know off the top of your head, especially considering the concussion.”

“Well, ‘m an honor roll student, y’know.”

Peter shifted, a little gasp of pain escaping his lips as the motion pulled at… something. Tony’s stomach clenched, every instinct shouting for him to _fix it, damn it, the child is in pain and you’re supposed to fix it!_

“Goddamn it, Pete. _Please_ let me get a nurse.”

“Nope,” the kid hissed, tugging at Tony’s arm to emphasize his point. “This ‘s the best leverage ‘m gonna have for ages.”

“This is worryingly masochistic.”

“Oh, ‘m not enjoying it.” And, well, that much was obvious. The twisted expression of pain on the kid’s face made that clear enough. “Just enjoy you bein’ mad at me even less.”

“Pete,” he whispered, crumbling under a wave of remorse, “Pete, buddy, I’m not mad at you.”

“Then what’s _wrong_?”

“It’s…” He trailed off, whirring the reason around on his tongue. Now that he was trying to explain it, he realized just how _stupid_ it sounded. How petty and small. “I just… you’ve been spending a lot of time with Happy lately.”

“Yeah? I mean, he’s moved in with me ‘n May, so he’s kind ‘f around all the time.”

“Obviously, but… well, but now I hear that you’re going to ask that MJ girl out, which is a huge step that I had no idea you were ready to take, and apparently _I’m_ the last to know-“

Peter squeezed his hand hard enough to silence him, breath catching. “Wait, who told you that?”

“You told Happy, Happy told May, May told Pepper, and Pepper told me. Lovely, by the way, to hear about your milestones through the grapevine.”

A shock of disappointment darted through Peter’s face. “Oh.”

“What do you mean, _oh_?”

“It’s just... that was supposed to be a secret.”

“So you weren’t gonna tell me at all?”

“No!” The kid’s shout was so forceful that it cut off into a whimper of pain, one of the hands he’d been using to tether Tony darting down to his ribs, eyes clenching shut. “I… ‘s not like that.”

“Okay, okay,” he soothed, because at the end of the day, it didn’t matter how pushed out Tony felt, he still loved this kid in a way that he knew he’d never love anybody else, and seeing him in pain was one of the worst things imaginable. “Okay. It’s alright. C’mon, kiddo, _please_ let me get a nurse. I swear I’ll talk to you all you’d like later, yeah? About anything you want.”

The kid shook his head, voice thin and shaky. “‘S stupid,” he whispered. “Why… Why I didn’t tell you. ‘S really stupid.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just… thought you’d be proud ‘f me, ‘n I like… _seeing_ it.” Peter’s cheeks flushed, bright spots of red standing out against the rest of his unhealthy pallor. “Isn’t the same through the phone.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

“Oh, Peter,” he murmured, feeling like an idiot and a monster all at once. “I… God, I’m _such_ an asshole. I thought-”

“It’s okay,” the kid said, and then a little sob broke out of his throat, seemingly from nowhere. “I-I should’ve just told you. Was bein’... bein’ super dumb.”

Oh, god. No, no, _no_. He’d made Peter _cry_. He wasn’t sure what he’d been aiming for with this whole thing, but it _definitely_ hadn’t been that.

“Shh, shh,” he quieted, frantic. “ _Please_ don’t cry. You weren’t being dumb. It’s… This one’s on me, okay? I was being a possessive dick. I’m so sorry.”

The kid shook his head, then whimpered when the motion clearly aggravated what had to be a splitting headache. Yeah, Tony had had his own fair share of concussions over the years. He remembered them all too well.

“I don’t know why ‘m crying.”

“You’re in pain, you’re drugged up to your eyeballs, _and_ you’re concussed. I think you get a pass. Besides, it’s just me, yeah? You can always cry with me. I don’t judge.”

“Please don’t be mad at Happy,” the kid whispered, a fresh wave of tears dripping down his cheeks. “Please. ‘S not his fault, ‘n I hate it when you fight.”

“I won’t be mad at Happy,” he promised, using his thumb to smooth the creases at the center of Peter’s forehead. “Now, can I please call a nurse? The quicker we jump on the pain, the easier it’ll be to get under control.”

“Okay,” Peter whispered, sounding small and young.

_Thank god._

He glanced up at the ceiling, loathe to look away from Peter even for a second. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Can you tell a nurse that Pete needs another dose of the good stuff? And contact Happy while you’re at it. Ask him to come here.”

The kid smiled, cheerfully letting his eyes drift shut. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

“I love you both, y’know,” Peter murmured after a few seconds, almost inaudibly. “Just ‘cause I love him doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

“I know,” he whispered back. “And I love you, too.”

One day, he hoped, he’d convince himself to believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> the joke’s on Tony _and_ Happy: Peter actually likes May the best


End file.
